


Homestuck Drabbles of the Shipping Kind

by Dreamwrote



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Shipping, Troll Romance, quadrants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamwrote/pseuds/Dreamwrote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever floats your ship!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me (Dave<3John)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Molly! 
> 
> References for sleeping bag here: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lagktlyfnU1qb3mmfo1_500.jpg

                It had started off as “accidental” brushes between bros during sleepovers. Dave would be reaching for the X-Box controller while John was reaching for the lame joke book that had somehow found its way over to that particular spot on the rug. Milky white hands dusted with freckles would caress the back of John’s hand in a way that seemed unplanned, reveling in the warmth. The black-haired boy would freeze for a millisecond before continuing on to his intended prize, recapturing the shitty collection of knock-knock jokes and puns. Meanwhile, Dave, a barely imperceptible smirk on his face and a slow redness creeping up the back of his neck, would begin gaming.

                The touches got more intense over time – Dave sometimes “ironically” draping himself over John’s lap as he endured yet another marathon of Nick Cage, a hug that lasted almost too long, knee nudges in the movie theaters . . . but John never said a word. He thought that Dave was just being a friend, and that’s what friends did: get up in another’s personal bubble like they owned it.

                Dave, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. The Egderp couldn’t see the smooth moves of the Striders, even when he was blatantly flirting with the boy.

                He thought he had almost had it when he tucked a strand of inky hair behind John’s ear and saw the shudder that ran through the smaller boy’s body.

                No such luck.

                John had immediately sneezed hard enough in Dave’s face that his classic shades were nearly blown off.

                So he came up with another solution, after bitching John out for the disgusting mess he had made of his sunglasses and making him apologize with cookies.

                The next sleepover they had, Dave made sure that John joined him on the bed by purposefully sabotaging John’s cherished Ghostbusters® sleeping bag, spilling apple juice all over the horrid fabric. Put out and slightly peeved, buck teeth chewing in frustration at his bottom lip, John agreed. They snuggled up after many instances of light punches and the usual bullshit talk, John curled around his plush salamander, Dave sprawled out over the majority of the bed.

                John was a deep sleeper. The deepest of the deep. Like, a fucking stampede of elephants wearing cowbells could not wake the kid up.

                Dave waited until the other boy’s breathing evened out, smooth and soft. He deftly curled an arm around John’s shoulder, drawing him to his chest. After extricating the stuffed animal from the Fort Knox of Egbert’s arms, he let the absence do its work. He had often awoken in the morning to John cuddling something on the floor, most hilariously a shoe, all because he had lost his salamander.

                So when John began to clutch onto Dave, arms and legs koala-ing over his pale body, burying his head in the crook of his neck, it was all Dave could do not to smile in triumph. The next day would start off interestingly . . . 


	2. All the Lonely People (Kanaya<3<Gamzee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My OTP. ^-^

His breath against her throat, teeth scraping lightly over her glowing skin.

At any time he could bite down, and she would be done for, precious jade blood spilling into puddles on the floor while he watched - grinned, maybe. But there was a certain element of trust in their relationship, if one could call it that.

More like a wary coalition. She for his blood, he for her company, tense as their meetings tended to be. 

She sucked in a breath as he exhaled. Usually she was the one with her mouth pressed up against his neck, nose skimming over his jugular, smelling the sinfully rich indigo pumping along …

She shuddered, the memory of the delicious liquid flowing over her tongue, spicy and sweet at the same time.

He smirked, pressing his lips underneath the lobe of her ear, probably smearing his greasepaint there. “What’s the matter KanSis? Gotta motherfucking problem?” His long purple tongue snaked out to lick the corner of her jaw.

She grit her teeth together, fangs grinding uncomfortably against her tender bottom lip. She put up with his antics for the same reason he put up with hers. 

They were just lonely people, deep down inside.


	3. Silence (Tavros<3Gamzee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mila! Sorry it became kind of sad and pale. ;n;

            “What the motherfuck is wrong Tavbro?”

            The voice came floating out from around the corner, the slow drawl mimicking the lazy movements of its owner. The squeak of overly-large shoes proceeded Gamzee’s arrival to the corner that Tavros was currently hunched in, large horns scraping the metal walls as he tried to curl further into himself. The copper-blood was crying, shiny tears trailing over his gray cheeks, and he didn’t want his friend to see them – to think that he was as weak as the rest of them said. As Vriska said.

            “Tavbro?” Gamzee asked, crouching down. His footwear squealed in protest as he folded himself around the smaller troll. “Tell a motherfucker what’s all up and happenin’ in your thinkpan.”

            A small shudder ran through Tavros as the indigo-blood made contact with his back, bloodpusher stuttering involuntarily. “N-nothing.”

            “Find that hard to be believin’ in,” Gamzee snorted, reaching around Tavros’ body to grasp his sweaty hand. He decided to stay silent, listening to the hiccupping inhales that pierced the air. His fingers stroked along the hand he had captured, absentmindedly drawing smiley faces on the skin. Sometimes silence was needed more than words, and trying to prod words out of his obviously-distressed friend could do more harm than good.

            Gamzee understood silence. The silence that arrived whenever he walked into a room with some of the other trolls before they started berated him leaving spoor pies in the common area again or leaving a trail of horns after exiting his pile. The silence on Alternia, living alone with GoatDad deep beneath the waves and no one else around him. The silence in the night that sometimes made him believe that he was hearing things until, exhausted, he passed out.

            Tavbro was a silent dude. Though there was probably a sure whole lot of thinking going on between his bull horns, he never made it past a few unsure stutters before lapsing back into fidgety and unhappy quiet. At times, he had mentioned the wish to be mute, rather than have to deal with the embarrassment of low self-esteem that expressed itself through his speech. However, this time when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly steady. 

            “I wish that I was dead,” he snuffled, shoulders shaking, “Or that I just wasn’t here anymore. Anywhere but here.” Gamzee bit his lip, smudging the paint there. Tensions were high on the asteroid, granted, with twelve maturing though still immature trolls constantly fighting or causing general chaos, but he didn’t think it was all that bad. Pity and discontent spread across his chest at those statements, the instinct to both comfort and eradicate the problem making his grip tighten around Tavros’ body.

            “Why?” he ground out, burying his face in the back of the copper-blood’s neck, dreading the inevitable answer.

            A thick swallow and the stutter was back again. “B-b-because V-vriska is so mean to me since the k-kiss. I d-don’t know what’s w-w-wrong and she won’t tell me.”

            Bile rose in Gamzee’s throat, angry and hot against his insides. The damn spiderbitch was breaking hearts right and left nowadays. It seemed like Tavros was her latest casualty. It only made Gamzee’s flushcrush on him hurt even more. “Don’t worry Tavbro. Nothing’s motherfucking wrong,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the troll’s skin. He drew the smaller troll closer into his grip, as if trying to instill some amount of calm into the still trembling body. He would be pale for his friend. He would be the comfort he needed in the night, and the shoosh to his pap. He exhaled determinedly. “Nothing is motherfucking wrong.”


	4. Welcome to the Jungle (Dave<3Jake)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zane! Hope this is what you wanted! (And now I want to expand on it...) Merry Christmas! <333  
> And sorry I don't know how to change the text colors. They were orange and red originally. :I

       

                Dave grit his teeth, simultaneously running a hand through his hand and running a red light in his haste to make it to the airport. He couldn’t believe that his twin Dirk had been called into work at the last minute for some kind of emergency and now he had to pick up some Jake kid from his flight from some sort of fucking deserted island or shit – not his problem, not his friend. But after being repeatedly bashed with creepy Smuppets up until Dirk had to leave to work had convinced him, with reluctance, to do what was asked of him. The added reward of three gallons of ice-cold apple juice in the fridge when Dirk came back was also an incentive.

                He whipped around a corner, cutting off some soccer mom’s minivan. The enraged honks were drowned out by his newest beats, filling the car with heavy bass that thrummed through his chest. He was already late by normal standards – like, an hour late. Coolkids never arrived early.

                Though it was not exactly the best plan to have when your arrival hadn’t lived among civilization for his entire life.

                “Shit!” Dave shouted, screeching to a halt when some idiot crossed the street, bursting out of some nearby bushes to wave pistols at his windshield.

                “I say! What a beast! Away with you then!” the stranger exclaimed, aiming carefully to blow out one of Dave’s headlights.

                “What the flying fuck,” Dave deadpanned, opening the door. “Dude.”

                “Oh! I didn’t see you there! Greetings chap!” the black-haired man grinned, striking a pose and winking, “Glad that I could rescue you from that awful creature!”

                “What,” Dave said.

                “The fiend that held you within its jaws! I am overjoyed that you are safe. But where are my manners?” Jake chatted, holstering his pistols, “I am Jake English, and you are?”

                Dave blinked, face impassive behind his shades. Feeling his phone vibrate, he opened it to a picture message from Dirk with an attached note.

            **This is Jake. He’s probably wandered off by now, so I’m giving you his picture for the police. Good luck finding him – he’s probably gone adventuring. If you find him before dark, buy him food. I’ll pay you back. Kissu kissu – Dirk.**

                The picture was of a black-haired, green-eyed boy with a goofy-ass smile that only highlighted his overbite who stood on top of a giant white carcass. Winking. With double pistols.

                **kissu my ass. you owe me apple juice for a month and a new headlight. explain later. -Dave**

                Dave sighed, clicking his phone shut. “Jake English? Dave Strider. What the hell are you doing so far away from the airport?”

                “Mr. Strider!” Jake stated, bouncing over to the taller white-haired boy, “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance!” He grabbed Dave’s hand and began pumping it up and down in an enthusiastic handshake. His hand was large and warm, firm calluses rough against Dave’s slender fingers.  

                “Yeah, hey, so, Dirk’s at work right now,” Dave explained, “So it looks like we’re going to be stuck together until he gets back. You hungry?”

                “No worries at all Mr. Strider! Also, I am feeling a mite peckish! A meal could do me well! Let me get my pack and we can be on our merry way!” Jake replied, practically beaming at the mention of food. He disappeared back into the bushes, eerily silent.

                 Dave resisted the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose. He clenched his fist, trying to rid his fingers of the weird electrical sensation that had appeared when Jake grabbed him. This was going to be a long three week visit – he could tell already.


	5. The Morning After (John<3Jake)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Molly! I'm sorry your Christmas present is so late, so I doubled the length! I really hope all the characters mesh well and that you like it~ <3  
> Also, headcanon!Jake is actually a decent cook. ;P

                Mornings were nothing new to John. He was a morning person, bubbly and effervescent, the type to make breakfast for his newest conquest with a sweet overbite grin.

                This latest one, by the name of Jake English, however, was an anomaly to his usual patterns of seduction. It was John who woke up at seven the morning after the spectacular lay next to a cold spot that only faintly smelt of Jake's body wash.

                A little bewildered, he closed his eyes as if to dispel the strangeness. Opening them, the scene was the same, bed empty, no clothes flung off the side of the bed, no shower running. He panicked, flipping out of bed with a lithe grace. He didn't want this to be a one-night stand, especially not after some of the most mind-blowing sex of his young life.

                Wincing a little at the soreness in his hips and ass, John stumbled over to the dresser where his austere black lenses sat, clean and without a speck of semen, though Jake had assuredly come over his face, glasses and all. Likewise, his clothes were gone, but the hum of the washer downstairs confirmed his suspicions.

                 John scratched his head, ruffling his already unruly bedhead. He was honestly and totally perplexed. Where was Jake?

                 He threw on a pair of blue boxers, on his way out of the room before the mirror caught his eye. His eyes widened. Holy shit. It looked like a bear had mauled him (pun intended).

                 Love bites littered his flesh, trailing from his neck to his lower abdomen, already mottled purple and blue. All of his muscles ached, even his tongue. He didn’t even want to _think_ about sitting down at this point. At least his hair didn’t look any different than normal – messy bedhead be damned. He turned, exposing large hand-shaped bruises on his upper thighs, a fluttery warmth settling in his groin at the memory of Jake’s forceful, calloused hands. The same hands that had nearly bent him in two, the hands that had fingered him to orgasm and the hands that had softly caressed his back as he drifted off to satisfied, post-orgasm sleep.

                 Whistling reached his ears, low and out of tune.

                 He bit at his swollen lip. Had Jake really stayed? If so, what the hell was he doing?

                 John hobbled down the stairs, long fingers gripping the banister in discomfort. It wasn’t often that he acceded to being bottom. In fact, it had been quite a fight between him and Jake for dominance. But the other man’s burly and muscular physique gave him the advantage not only in the wild (as he claimed to live isolated on a dangerous island), but in bed.

                Not that John was complaining, of course. Certainly not after the skill Jake had displayed between his legs. There were things John had never done before – and that was saying something, especially since he was the local playboy.

                The sight that greeted John at the entrance to the kitchen was enough to stop him in his tracks.

                Jake was laying plates on the table, ceramics delicately distributed by massive hands. Steaming piles of eggs and what looked like chorizo were heaped upon the dishes, smelling strongly of garlic and peppers. At least half a loaf of bread had been sliced and thrown into a bowl, assorted jams and butter surrounding it. All in all, it looked like a spectacular breakfast, enough to make his mouth water.

                It was not the only thing to make his mouth water.

                Jake English was a fine specimen of a male – thick arms and legs, toned stomach and strong shoulders. Further emphasized by the loosely belted shorts hugging his cut hips. His jet black hair was messily combed, still wet from the shower. His ass jutted out almost impudently at John, tempting him with its perfect shape. Jake looked utterly fuckable. John swallowed thickly, dick twitching in agreement.

               “Morning chap! How are you this fine morning?” Jake grinned, one of his green eyes winking, “Slept well, I assume?”

               It took John a second for his brain to become reattached to his speech capabilities rather than his groin. “Er, yeah, slept great. You?”

               “Like a baby,” Jake replied, opening the fridge to extract a carton of orange juice, “Hope you don’t mind me taking liberties with your kitchen, but I thought that breakfast might make a nice gesture. Thankfully our pantries and cupboards are arranged about the same.”

                John continued to gape. Not only was the man utterly gorgeous, he cooked too?

                “Why don’t you have a seat?” Jake coaxed, edging out a chair. He was admittedly very dexterous and gentle for such a huge man. “Or is it a little hard to move after last night’s shenanigans?” He winked again, face crinkling in amusement.

                “Oh!” John answered, jumping a little in embarrassment at being caught staring, “No, no, I can walk just fine thanks!” He tried to walk over to the table with a minimal amount of limping. Jake waited patiently for him to make his way over to the chair, which he sat into with a great deal of care.

                 Jake didn’t stop grinning the entire time.

                 “So,” he began, grabbing two pieces of toast and buttering them without looking, “Guess I buggered you pretty hard then. I would give my sincerest apologies, but neither of us seems to be sorry - at least don’t think you are judging from your screaming last night.”

                 John’s eyes widened, face growing hot. He absentmindedly pressed a hand to his cheek. He was blushing like a virgin, wasn’t he? What the hell was the matter with him? He had to get it together. John Egbert was no cherry. He curled his hand around his fork as if for moral support.

                “Not sorry in the least,” he beamed, scooping up a forkful of eggs, “Thanks for breakfast. It’s not often that I get food made for me.”

                “I get up early,” Jake replied by way of explanation, “Usually before the sun rises, because that’s when the majority of the beasts are still out. And you’re very welcome – hope it’s to your liking.”

                “You were up before the sun rose?” John gaped, “That was like, three or four hours ago!”

                “Indeed it was. And such a lovely sunrise.”

                “What the hell did you do for the last three hours?”

                “Watched you sleep a little – did you know that you snore ever so slightly? It’s cute. Took a shower, cleaned up the room, threw our clothes in the laundry and made breakfast. I expected you to wake up later though,” Jake rattled off, stuffing a big bite of egg into his mouth and swallowing, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

                “Not at all! I’m just surprised. That was really thoughtful of you,” John mumbled, shoveling chorizo into his mouth to cover up his last sentence, “Why do you have to be so perfect?”

                “No problem chap! I’m happy as a clam to do so.”

                The two ate breakfast in companionable silence. John took every opportunity to sneak glances over at his supposed one-night-stand. Forget a single night, he might keep this one around forever!

                “Are you finished?” Jake asked, laying his fork down. He had eaten the majority of the meal, wolfing down the meat and eggs. “I’m going to wash them if you are.”

                “Yeah. Let me help you at least,” John laughed, “You’re like a one-man army here.”

                “At your service,” Jake purred, standing up to mock bow.

                John collected the dishes, bringing them to the sink that Jake was filling with hot soapy water. “You wash, I’ll dry?” he asked, automatically reaching for the towel.

                “Sounds appropriate,” Jake grinned, his overbite matching John’s replying smile. “But first – this.” He gathered John in his arms, tilting his head up to kiss at his lips.

                It was hot and wet, Jake’s tongue lapping at John’s open mouth, hands spreading themselves over his face and chest. John mewled softly against the kiss, teeth playfully nipping at Jake’s bottom lip. They broke for air, gasping.

                “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that all morning,” Jake admitted, a light dusting of red on his tanned cheeks.

                “Who said you couldn’t do that and more?” John breathed, licking at his lips. His usually sky blue eyes were now a deep blue, a glint of mischief hidden in them. “Fuck the dishes. Follow me.” He led Jake over to the couch, smirking as he went.

                The dishwater was icy cold when they finally got back to them in the late afternoon. 


End file.
